Tainted Love
by Lilypad18
Summary: This story takes place in an AU in the 40s where Pamela is a famous club singer and Bruce is the head of the mafia in Gotham. I was inspired by the song, "Million Dollar Man" by Lana del Rey. I do not own this song or the characters in this story. Rated M for mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

The club was hidden in the depths of Gotham, far away from downtown and tucked into the corner of a small neighborhood, camouflaging amidst a grocery store and a row of small apartments. Although his business tended to take him all over the city, Bruce found he had never ventured into this area before. For such a popular starlet to perform there, he was surprised it wasn't in a bigger, more public-friendly venue.

But then again, maybe she wanted it that way.

He had arrived "fashionably late" as he liked to call it-not on purpose, of course, but because his work kept him busy. Being the head of one of the most powerful and influential mafias in Gotham had its pros and its cons. He was sure that a good majority of the men he presided over would kill for the position he had, but he didn't want it. In fact, he had no choice but to take it over when his parents unexpectedly. With the help of his father's closest friend, Bruce managed to keep what his father had built.

He was genuinely surprised that she had returned to the city after all of this time. He glanced out of the window and towards the club, seeing a poster for the event on the side of the building. Her stage name was "Poison Ivy," but he had known her Pamela Isley. It was a clever name, he'd give her that, and it fit her well. He had assumed that once she had gained as much fame as she did, she would be off somewhere, living in a warmer climate with whatever man she would let into her heart for the time being. A part of him, the more optimistic side, wondered if he still had a chance to find his way back there.

Shaking his head as if to shake that thought away, Bruce let out a long sigh and fixed his tie. He wore suits nearly every day, but he decided to wear his most favorite: all white with a black tie. Simple, but sharp. His clothes happened to be black and white, but his emotions certainly weren't. He had never felt his nervous before. His work made him see and do things that would make anyone uncomfortable, but after one of his men uttered her name earlier that afternoon, his mouth went dry. He knew he had to see her.

"Uh . . . Mr. Wayne? It's 7:55. The show will start soon." Bruce's driver piped up, which brought him back to reality, making him snap out of his deep thoughts.

Clearing his throat, Bruce pulled back his sleeve to check out his watch. "Yes, you're right. Thank you, Ben." He didn't know what else to say because he felt as though he couldn't think or breathe.

Bruce climbed out of the back of the car and made his way to the door, his heart beating fast in his chest. For some reason, he felt as though he was going back in time, even if the span would only be a year and a half. He knocked on the door and after a couple of seconds, it opened magically from the inside and without any more hesitation, he walked into the club.

Like any club, there was cigarette smoke hanging low in the air while people softly chatted with each other, one hand holding a cigarette or their alcoholic beverage of choice. Bruce wasn't the biggest fan of smoking, but he did it anyway because everyone else did. He especially lit up multiple cigarettes when his job became stressful. The taste wasn't pleasant, but he craved the sensation whenever his head felt like he was going to explode.

The ladies were completely drenched in jewelry that sparkled as much as the candles on the tables. The men were in their finest suits, tailored to perfection. It appeared Bruce wasn't the only person who wanted to see the red-headed vixen sing.

Unlike any other club he had been to, it was incredibly small and Bruce had a hard time finding a table since he had arrived late. He searched for a couple of minutes before he found a table for one towards the back. Because of the wine stains on the table cloth and the used cigarettes lounging in the ash tray, Bruce assumed that a couple had been sitting there, but had left before the performance started. He didn't mind since he preferred sitting in the back, wanting to be a silent surveyor rather than up close to the stage.

Whatever lights that were on dimmed, signaling the start of the performance. The conversations of the various couples died down and their attention all went to the stage as they started to clap in anticipation. Bruce kept his eyes glued to the curtains, his heart rate picking up again. He couldn't wait to see her. Had she changed or was she the same Pamela she was when she had been with him? He hoped for the latter.

The curtains drew back on the stage, revealing a small piano with the accompanist sitting at the bench. He nodded his head in recognition of the applause, his lips pulling into a wide smile. He then turned his body and held out his hand to the other side of the stage, showing the audience that that was where Pamela was going to enter. It wasn't long until the red head joined her accompanist on the stage, making Bruce take in a quiet gasp. She still looked incredible.

She wore a long, green gown that hugged her curves. Her dress looked like it was made of satin because the fabric was glossy underneath the lights of the stage. Her elbow-length gloves matched, naturally, and she had a red rose tucked behind her left ear. Her crimson lips pulled into a smile of warm gratitude and she took a couple of seconds to nod her head, recognizing the audience's applause just like her accompanist had done earlier.

 _No,_ Bruce thought, _fame hadn't changed her one bit._


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce watched her glance over to her accompanist and with a nod of her head, he began to play their first song of the evening. It was a more upbeat melody, but Pamela's clear voice carried up and over the crowd. Bruce didn't care for her happier songs, but rather the slower ones. He felt as though through those songs, her voice reached its upmost potential-that she was her most musical and passionate through them. They were mostly about sadness and heartbreak as well and he knew she could relate to those subjects. Maybe too easily.

Time passed him by and before he knew it, she was already on her last song. Bruce was surprised, but also disappointed. He had been enjoying her voice so much because it brought him back to simpler times in his life. In some way, her voice was better than any cigarette he would ever light up.

He honestly didn't want this night to end. This was most likely his last chance to see her and he didn't want to blow it. He sat up some more in his chair when he saw she was going to speak into the microphone, her gloved hand wrapped around the microphone stand tightly.

"The last song of the night is new, but also one I've been working on for a while. I wrote the lyrics myself while Jimmy, my accompanist, helped out with the music." Pamela turned her head to give Jimmy a wink, making the accompanist chuckle.

"Anyway, this song was inspired by a man I know here in Gotham." Her voice reverberated through the microphone to the back of the club as she paused, her professional façade faltering slightly. Bruce could only wonder if she was possibly thinking about him or perhaps she was trying to search for his face in the crowd. She took a couple of seconds to compose herself and she cleared her throat, her easy smile returning to her lips.

"It's called 'Million Dollar Man.' I hope you all like it."

She looked over to Jimmy and with the nod of her head, he began to play the introduction of the song. As the piano played, Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't have to ask her-he knew this song was about him. Who else could it possibly be about? _Another rich, eligible man she happened to know?_ His thought had some truth to it, but it made him contemplate how long had she been working on it. If he really had been her muse, he was taken aback. He didn't think he ever could be. His attention went back to Pamela as she opened her mouth to sing the song.

 _You said I was the most exotic flower,_

 _Holding me tight in our final hour . . ._

 _I don't know how you convince them or get them, but_

 _I don't know what you do, it's unbelievable_

 _And I don't know how you get over, get over_

 _Someone as dangerous, tainted, and flawed as you_

Her voice already sounded bittersweet and the song had just started. Would he be able to sit through this? Bruce only hoped as that that wasn't what she truly thought of him. Dangerous and . . . tainted? Bruce understood he wasn't a perfect man-that was clear in his job description-but she wasn't an angel either. She had the looks of one, but it certainly didn't match her personality. If anyone was dangerous, it was her. She had the power to entrap any man she could and leave him the next minute, completely dazed and confused.

 _One for the money, and two for the show_

 _I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go_

 _How did you get that way, I don't know_

 _You're screwed up and brilliant_

 _Look like a million dollar man_

 _So why is my heart broke_

To anyone, these words were ambiguous-merely a love story that went wrong, but Bruce knew the context behind them too well because they were all too _real_. She did end up leaving him suddenly, but not without reason. His work ended up becoming his main priority and even though he had become successful, he had lost her in the end. Pamela . . . his rose. Perhaps they were both dangerous when it came to the matters of the heart.

 _You got the world but baby at what price_

 _Something so strange, hard to define_

 _It isn't that hard boy to like you or love you_

 _I'd follow you down down down_

 _You're unbelievable_

 _If you're going crazy just grab me and take me_

 _I'd follow you down down down, anywhere anywhere_

Bruce technically did have the world or at least Gotham and it came at a heavy price: his love life and his sanity. While they were together, Pamela realized this and she didn't know if she could handle the consequences. He didn't blame her in the slightest-she deserved everything she wanted and more. He was upset that he couldn't give her everything she wanted, especially because one of those things were his heart. That was one thing he couldn't put in a box and wrap it in an expensive-looking ribbon.

While they were together, however, she followed him everywhere and did anything for him. She understood how rough his day to day life was, but she stayed because she cared too much for him. Bruce concluded that when they were together, it was one of the best times of his life, but it was also the worst. It ended with her abrupt departure.

Bruce waved a waiter over with a tray full of flutes of champagne and he picked up one, immediately throwing the golden liquid back. The fizziness of the drink was refreshing, but it didn't help numb the pain he felt. Only whiskey could do that for him. He held the empty flute in between his fingers miserably as his songbird continued.

 _I don't know_

 _You're screwed up and brilliant_

 _Look like a million dollar man_

 _So why is my heart broke_

Pamela's voice slowly and sadly tapered off on the last line, making Bruce feel like he just got punched in the gut. He looked up from the empty flute to see Pamela looking over in his direction, her eyes glazed over as if she was remembering a tragic memory. She didn't break this emotion until the accompanist finished and the audience broke out into applause, allowing Pamela to smile and take a couple of bows. She nodded her head and she waved, blowing some kisses out to the crowd.

One man even came up to the stage to give her a bouquet of roses, which she graciously accepted. Bruce cursed to himself. He should've brought her something. Would money do? No, she would hate that because not only did she not need it, but the gesture also would've been a mockery of their rocky relationship

The man then produced a glossy photo of her and instead of a signature, Pamela took it from him and placed a kiss on it. The audience erupted into laughter over this and Pamela's smile turned into a cheeky one. She took hold of the microphone and waited for the crowd to become silent again.

"Thank you to everyone who came tonight. I appreciate the support of every single one of you because you are the people who got me to where I am today." She took some time to pause again, her fingers nervously pushing some hair from her face. Her eyes sparkled, but not in the way they did earlier. She was fighting tears and Bruce could tell because she had that look on her face a good majority of their relationship.

"I-I'm afraid this will be my last performance in Gotham . . . and for a long time."

Bruce was completely stunned by her announcement and so was the audience. The couples and groups started to talk with each other in rapid fire whispers. Some gentlemen who were bolder stood up and began to yell at her, making Pamela visibly wince on the stage. Some people even got up and left the club completely.

Bruce watched her and felt terrible for her. Everything she had built was now coming to an end. Singing was her life and she worked so hard to get to where she was today . . . what had happened? Bruce had to figure it out. He knew everything that went on in his city and he would be damned if he would let this slip by, especially when it dealt with her.

Pamela let out another meek "thank you" amongst the loud volume of the voices before the curtains closed, ending her final performance. Bruce got to his feet as quickly as he could and before anyone could ask, he snagged a waiter and slipped him a fifty-dollar bill to show him to Pamela's dressing room. Slipping the money in his pocket, the waiter turned down the hallway and led Bruce to the back of the club.


	3. Chapter 3

Pamela stared at herself in the mirror as she sat at her vanity. A couple of hours ago, she admired her reflection, but now she loathed it. She only saw how weak and pathetic she had become. She was a shell of what she was, her fame mercilessly stealing her happiness and passion away. The bright lights made her face look washed out and emphasized the dark circles underneath her eyes, the smeared mascara making them look even darker. Her perfectly coiffed hair had fallen out of its place, the handprint on her cheek her new rouge. Throughout her entire life, she never thought she would reach this kind of stardom and she never thought she would be this miserable.

She looked around the room, noticing all the beautiful flowers that decorated her dressing room. In a way, they showed the support of her fans, but they were also an example of her: attractive, but easy to hurt. It didn't take much force to destroy flowers because they're nothing without their petals. She leaned forward to sniff one to help her smile through her tears.

Exhaling slowly, she turned back to look at herself. To torture herself further, she replayed the last couple of minutes in her head: the crowd booing after her announcement and _him_ yelling at her, eventually smacking her across her cheek. Two Face always was angry with her, no matter what she did, whether it was wrong or right. She cursed herself for falling for influential, dangerous men who happened to have money. She pretended to be with him to benefit her career. He had given her financial support, along with connections that she never would've received if she hadn't met him. He had been helpful to her for some time, but she was longing to be free of him. She never loved him, but she at least she hated him more than herself. That was a feat within itself.

She fell for Jason Woodrue initially, a well-off professor at the local college. He had taken her under his wing after she had sung at a club smaller than this one, desperate for any kind of attention from anyone. She was new to the city and she was flattered that someone, especially a man like him, had seen her and was willing to help her. She knew it was the chance of a lifetime and she didn't want to give it up.

Pamela would admit that she was incredibly naïve and foolish at this point in her life. He had used her in more ways than one and she still had followed him around like a lost puppy. It wasn't completely her fault, however-he was controlling with his words. His touch wasn't that bad too and Pamela nearly gave herself to him every night. She sometimes wondered how she could do that, but then she remembered the things he whispered to her. She swore he was more powerful than a hypnotist.

It wasn't until he had beaten her up and left her on her own that she decided whatever they had was done and over with. Her health was more important and he had picked up another unlucky girl anyway. Feeling nauseous just thinking about him, Pamela pushed her hair behind her ear as her thoughts changed.

The next man was Bruce. She rested her chin on her palm, her cheeks warming with a blush as the memories came flooding back to her. She genuinely hadn't expected him to come into her life, especially at the time he did. Bruised and broken after Woodrue, she ended up auditioning for a spot in his own club. Pamela understood that he didn't open it himself, but he owned it because it came with the territory. She sang one of her favorite songs and instead of crying like she had been for the past couple of days, she poured all and whatever emotion she had left into the song. When she was finished, to her surprise, she saw that he had been standing at the back of the empty club the entire time. From the look on his face, Pamela knew she had the gig. She just didn't know that she had his heart too.

Like Woodrue, Bruce took her under his wing, but it was different this time. After a couple of performances and when she was more comfortable where she was, he took her out to nice dinners and bought her as many flowers as she wanted. He presented her jewelry, but she had to decline them. Sure, jewelry was pretty, but flowers were more beautiful . . . to her at least. Whenever he was free, Bruce took her outside of the city or to the beach when it was warm and sunny. She kept those memories close to her and remembered them during dark times like these because they gave her so much happiness.

If there was anything Pamela loved most about Bruce, it was his compassion. He was one of the most empathetic men she met and she was sure that that was why he gave her the spot at the club. He probably didn't even know her story, but he still took her in anyway. He gave her a shot when no one else would and she would be forever grateful for that. She didn't think a romance would flourish in between them, but even the most stunning flowers grew in the worst of conditions.

He was a hard worker and she knew he had to be cruel sometimes, but he sincerely cared about his men and his city. If any of his men were hurt, Bruce would bandage them up himself and make sure he personally got revenge on the person who gave them the wound in the first place. The mafia could be ruthless, but he was a shining example. She had hoped she would be with him for the rest of her life, but after he started heavily drinking and coming to bed late at night, Pamela recognized her time with him was up. She wanted to leave too because he was emotionally abusing her just like Woodrue did. It was more mild, of course, but it was still present nonetheless. She had met Two Face as well and he had promised her a place to stay, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It was extremely painful to do, but she left him without a word or a note. He was smart enough to get the picture and she didn't think she would have to explain herself-their problems were all too evident in between them.

She cursed to herself and buried her face in her hands, her throat closing with the threat of tears. Their relationship wasn't perfect, no, but she should've stayed with him. Two Face was one of the worst men she had known because he knew she wanted to escape and he wouldn't let her. After begging and begging him to stop, he still emotionally and physically abused her. He was way worse than Woodrue and Pamela didn't know what to do. How would she escape a relationship she couldn't?

Pamela took in an audible gasp once she heard the knock on the door. Who could it be? She wasn't supposed to receive any visitors based on Two Face's demands. Standing up, she smoothed out her dress and forgot to fix her makeup as she walked over to the door. She paused before opening it, uncertain if she should. If Two Face found out, he would be extremely angry with her. She didn't care what the consequences would be and she opened it anyway, her eyes widening at the sight of Bruce standing there. He looked just as surprised and she nearly crumpled in front of him, but she somehow managed to continue standing. Because of all the emotions and memories rushing back to her, she felt her eyes blur with tears and she sniffed.

She had never been so glad to see him before.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce immediately regretted his decision as he walked down the hallway of the club, following the waiter closely. What would he even say? No, what _could_ he say to her? There were so many subjects on his mind that he couldn't choose one and he was scared that if he didn't, they would all exit his mouth at once. It also didn't help that Pamela made him do things he didn't know he could. He could control his mafia with an iron fist every day, but one look at her, and he was down for the count. He hoped he would be able to find his way through small talk at least, although he wanted to talk about deeper topics like their relationship and why she was quitting singing when she was at the zenith of her career.

The waiter stopped at the very last door in the hallway, gesturing it with one hand. Bruce thanked the waiter and he promptly left, pulling out the cash once more to marvel at it. Bruce turned to knock on the door, but watched a couple pass him by, the woman carrying a small bouquet of roses. _Flowers, dammit!_ Why did everyone have flowers except for him? He could've picked up some on his way over to the club from his work, but he had forgotten. He considered stealing the roses from her arms, but decided against it. He would give her something better than roses: his time and attention. That's something she definitely would've appreciated more than flowers when they were together.

After the couple left, Bruce turned back towards the door and his breath caught in his throat, his mind racing a mile a minute once more. How would he greet her? _Hi, Pamela, I know it's been a while, but I just wanted to let you know that you did so well out there and you're still one of the most beautiful women I know._

Bruce paused as he thought about it. No, that was too forward. He could greet her and ask her about the weather? No, that was too casual and she especially hated small talk. He let out some curses under his breath as he fixed his tie, the movement now a nervous tick. Should he just go home? That was a tempting thought, but the idea of seeing her made him stay outside her dressing room. When would he ever see her again? It was clear she was leaving the city and never coming back. He couldn't let her slip through his fingers yet again.

Bruce rapped his knuckles against the door, hoping that he would come up with something good to say to her on his feet. That's when he did his best from time to time and he hoped he could prove himself right. He listened as he heard someone moving from behind the door before it finally opened.

Pamela stood in the doorway, her body still clad in her green dress. Instead of her easygoing nature, she looked completely broken-her green eyes were red and puffy and her mascara was smeared. Her lipstick was all messed up around her mouth, but she also had a handprint on her cheek, which concerned Bruce instantaneously. Anger was hot in his belly, something that hadn't happened to him in a while. He was frustrated every day, but this sensation was different because it was evident that someone had hurt her.

As if she saw this emotion in his eyes, Pamela cleared her throat and tried to dab at her eyes with the back of her hands as much as she could. She shook her head and walked back to her vanity to try and do a better job. Grimacing, Bruce shut the door behind him and walked towards her, noticing that her vanity was covered with numerous bouquets of roses. He was glad he didn't get her any flowers-they were pretty, but they were not what she needed at the time. Pamela sniffed as she turned towards him and Bruce reached down, gently cupping his cheeks with his hands. He was a good foot taller than her and he forgot how fragile she could seem. That was also a part of her beauty, her allure, and Bruce knew that if she wasn't careful, men would be able to overpower her.

He could tell she was fighting a fresh wave of tears and he slowly shook his head, watching as a droplet rolled down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb and he sighed, feeling her sadness match his own. She pushed her handprinted cheek into his touch, silently thanking him for comforting her.

"Pamela," his voice was a whisper as if he were afraid of someone overhearing their conversation. "What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing. I promise." She shook her head and hesitantly matched his gaze, forcing a smile onto her lips. She was trying to push the real problem away and she was failing miserably. She only saw concern darken his blue eyes.

"You know I don't believe you." Bruce said as he pulled his hands away from her cheeks and took hold of her hand, leading her over to the chair at her vanity. She reluctantly sat down and placed both of her hands in her lap, feeling the softness of the silk beneath her fingertips. She knew he would want her to confess and she didn't think she could. Bruce knelt beside her and took her tiny hand in his, his thumb slowly rubbing the back of it. The action made Pamela smile and Bruce let out a quiet chuckle, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"There it is . . . there's that smile." Bruce whispered once more, but only because it was more of a private memory. He softly squeezed her hand and calmed some more when he saw the handprint had faded. "I know you're tired, so why don't you come back to my place? Only for some drinks, of course."


	5. Chapter 5

Pamela looked out of the window as the car sped down the streets of Gotham towards Wayne Manor. She had missed the way the city looked at night. It was almost magical unless you knew what was actually going on-crime and way too much of it. It ran rampant on the streets like a horrible disease. Using his power for good, Bruce tried his best to stop it, but it seemed impossible. Pamela knew that that was what kept Bruce up late into the night. He was putting so much of his effort into something he couldn't control, but at least his perseverance was another one of his admirable qualities.

She pulled Bruce's jacket closer to her since it loosely hung over her frame and there was a chill sneaking into the car. The weather had become colder and she hadn't brought a jacket, but then again, she was expecting Two Face to drag her off to another location he was needed at. Where was he anyway? The last time she saw him was at the club and that had been a while ago. If he had abandoned her, good. She didn't need him anymore . . . no one needed him in their life.

She smiled to herself when the familiar smell of Bruce's cologne mixed with cigarette smoke wafted through her nose from the jacket. The scent of the cigarette was very specific because there was only one kind he could stand. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, which brought even more memories back-dinners late at night followed by a dance in front of the fire place. She also remembered falling asleep in his arms after they had made love for the first time, the cigarette smoke forming around them both. She swore she had never felt more safe than she did in that moment.

Pamela blinked as the car pulled up in front of the Manor and she looked up at it, noticing that it still looked the same. It was an exquisite piece of architecture, but it was haunting as well. Just like its owner.

Bruce helped her out of the car and she took her time approaching the entrance, her heels crunching against the gravel. He held her hand and it seemed like he didn't want to let it go because he feared of losing her again. To give him some comfort this time, she looped her arm through his and moved closer to him, her cheek resting against his upper arm. She looked at him from underneath her eyelashes to see a hint of a smile on his lips, but she considered that progress.

When Pamela walked inside, she discarded his jacket and handed it back to him, already being warmed by the fire in the living room. As if almost in a trance, she walked towards it, her heels clicking against the hard, wooden floor. She stood there and looked around, noticing that nothing had changed-the same furniture was there, along with the overall dark ambiance. She spent so much time with him in the past that she thought this estate was going to become her home and she had looked forward to it. It had already felt like she belonged here. She jumped once she felt a hand on her shoulder, but she gave him a soft smile to let him know she was okay. He had just caught her at a vulnerable moment.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Bruce asked, the crackling of the flames louder than his own voice. "I have wine or champagne."

"Wine would be nice, thank you."

With a nod, Bruce walked down the room and to a small door, which she assumed led to the cellar. There were some spots her memory couldn't fill.

She walked towards the pictures hanging on the wall and her lips pulled into a small smile. Bruce hid a lot of his emotions, but they always came out in pictures, especially when he was younger. That was understandable, though. She was sure his life was much simpler when he was a child. She glanced to some pictures of him at an older age and Pamela could see how stoically he carried himself. The pictures were black and white, but she could see the kaleidoscope of emotions in those eyes of his. Aside from singing, picking up on his emotions whether it was through his eyes or his actions was another one of her gifts, but they were both emotional people after all. They both wore their hearts on their sleeves, but Bruce concealed his underneath the jackets of his finest suits.

Pamela moved and she took in a gasp when she saw her reflection in a full-length mirror. How could Bruce even stand to look at her? She looked completely disheveled . . . a mess. Her designer dress lost its sleekness and its shine and her makeup was still a collage of color all over her face. Before she left the club, Pamela took off her lipstick and attempted to clean up the mascara, but she could still faintly see the colors they left behind on her pale skin. She almost looked like the Joker, another mafia member that Bruce had to deal with. Walking towards the mirror, she did her best to touch up both of those areas with her fingertips, but to no avail. Pamela stopped after she heard him approaching her and she turned around to face him, offering him a another smile. She thanked him as she took the wine from him.

"I still had your favorite kind." Bruce mused as he smiled back at her, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand while the other was in his pocket. He had taken off his tie and undid the buttons of the dress shirt, showing off his undershirt and his chest.

Pamela's cheeks warmed as he caught her staring at him and she took a couple of sips of her wine, trying to swallow down the old sentiments that were being revived.

"Hey, hey. Slow down." Bruce reached forward and rested his hand on her shoulder, her thumb stroking against her soft skin. "We've got all night. Unless you'd like to rest?"

Pamela chuckled and she pushed some hair away from her face, holding the glass with her free hand. "I'll finish and then go to bed." Her words were already sort of slurred and she mentally cursed. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't eaten anything for a while and she was a light weight. It also didn't help that she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She glanced at her glass, noticing she was halfway through it already.

"All right. Would you like to sit down?" Bruce gestured to the couch with his glass of whiskey. Ivy nodded her head and she walked towards the couch, stumbling a bit on her way. Once she sat down, she immediately removed her heels, which made Bruce chuckle again.

"You don't have to wear them, you know. You can go barefoot for all I care." Bruce said, his arm resting on the back of the couch. He perched his glass of whiskey on his knee as he turned his head to look down at her.

"That'd be quite nice. I honestly hate heels and dresses. They're nice, but not functional in the slightest." Ivy responded, smiling and tilting her head up to look at him. Because of his arm and the way she leaned into him, their faces were close and Pamela could smell the sharp whiskey on his mouth. She didn't mind, though. It was nice. Her eyes fell to his lips and she suddenly wondered if he tasted like his drink of choice.

Bruce must've seen her looking at his lips because he cleared his throat and moved in his seat. Pamela looked down at her glass of wine, suddenly interested in the color of the liquid. He suddenly let out a long sigh and she could tell he was going to talk about a difficult subject. Bruce reached forward and placed a finger underneath her jaw, turning her face towards him. Eyebrows furrowed in concern, he moved his hand to her arm, his thumb making slow circles on her skin.

"Pamela," he started uneasily, "I know you don't want to talk about this, but you need to because I'm scared for your health." He took hold of her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Who are you with? I know you're with someone and he's not treating you well."

Pamela felt her heart stop. How he did even figure this out? That was a stupid question because she was in his city now and he knew everything that happened here. She sighed and looked down again, some of her hair hiding her face. She was grateful for that because she could see her vision blurring with tears again. Where would she start? It all seemed so overwhelming, but she decided she would start from the beginning.

"His name is Two Face. He runs a smaller mafia, nowhere as powerful as yours, but I met him after we broke up. He said he would give me anything I wanted, which were connections and places to perform. He did give me those things, which jump started my career, but they came at a price. Too high of a price really." She sniffed and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, her feet disappearing underneath the skirt of her dress. Her voice became quiet because her throat was tightening up on her. "Bruce . . . he . . . he beats me all of the time and for the smallest things. He's the one who made me stop singing because he wasn't getting enough attention." She found the courage to look up at him, a tear spilling onto her cheek. She shook her head and sniffed, letting the tear stain the fabric of her dress. "But the worst part is he won't let me get out of this relationship or whatever you want to call it. He's one of the evilest men I know."

When she was done, she noticed that every muscle in Bruce's body was tense. He was gripping his glass of whiskey so tightly that Pamela thought it was going to break in his hand at any second. His cheeks were flushed, too, showing just how angry he was. Pamela finished off her glass of wine before she took his glass out of his hand, placing it down on the floor next to her own.

"Two Face is one of my biggest enemies in Gotham right now." Bruce informed her through gritted teeth. "He's relatively new to the territory, but he's been present nonetheless." His hand gripped the back of the couch because she had taken his glass away and he slowly shook his head. "He's been trying to take my men away, sway them to his side. I should've known that damn bastard would've stolen my girl right out from under me."

Stolen? That was too strong of a word. Pamela went to Two Face willingly because Bruce's work had become his new "girl." She wanted to inform Bruce of this fact, but she knew that the timing would be bad. Bruce would never take his anger out on her, but she didn't know how he would and that scared her.

"Yes. I'm so sorry about that . . . I feel so guilty. I never should've left you." Pamela chewed on her bottom lip and placed her hand on his cheek again, enjoying the scratch of his scruff against her skin. "You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't want to return to him, but I'm scared of what will happen to you and me if I don't."

"He'll have to come through me if he wants you. He's never going to lay another finger on you again." Bruce said, his eyes finding hers. "And I mean it." He took hold of her hand and lifted it to her lips, placing a kiss on her palm.

Bruce's declaration was stronger and more potent than the alcohol running through her veins. A part of her wondered if it was secretly a blessing that she had left him because she had never seen him this passionate before. She knew he had it in him, but his work was usually what took it away from him. She felt her own type of passion stirring inside of her-so much so that she pulled up her dress to climb into his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist and even though she wanted to kiss him, to taste him after so long, she settled for resting her forehead against his own. Bruce did the same, his hands gently sliding up her back.

She closed her eyes, taking the time to appreciate that she was connected with him again. That she was safe again.


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce looked down to see Pamela fast asleep, her head resting on his chest. Her red hair was curly, but in a complete mess because of last night's activities. She looked so peaceful and he had only hoped he would see her like this again: completely naked, the lower portion of her body wrapped in his expensive sheets. That's where she deserved to be or at least where he wanted her to be. Trying not to wake her up, he gently brushed her fingertips up and down her bare back, his fingers tracing the length of his spine. He couldn't keep his hands off her, especially after they had kissed. They were both slightly intoxicated, but no mistakes had been made-it was clear she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Besides, her kiss was the most powerful thing he had ever experienced.

He stopped when he thought she was waking up, but she let out a soft sigh instead. Bruce continued, happy that she stayed in her deep sleep. If there was anything Bruce struggled with, it was sleep. His thoughts and fears usually kept him up all night, but he managed. He usually had Alfred give him a sleeping pill, but sometimes even that didn't help. Bruce found that having Pamela next to him again helped him sleep. It was because he knew she was safe.

Tearing his gaze away from her, Bruce glanced out of the windows of his home, noticing the sun starting to rise over the landscape. He knew he would have to get ready to go to work soon and how upset she would be because of this. He would do his best to try and deal with both issues in the best ways possible. His work was important, but not as important as her. He wasn't going to lose her again, especially when she needed him now more than ever.

Bruce looked at the clock and decided he would get ready for work, but he would return as soon as possible to her. He would try to make it up to her somehow as well. He couldn't believe he was already leaving her, but he had no choice. If he didn't, his men would come to him and he didn't want that. Sighing, Bruce moved away from Pamela, so he could get out of the bed. Pamela let out a yawn as she rolled onto her side, giving him a quick flash of her soft breasts. Bruce groaned and looked at the clock again . . . did he really have to go? Although Bruce hated the answer and had a hard time admitting it, it was yes. He went over to her side of the bed and pulled the sheets over her body, pressing a kiss to her temple. He then disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Before he left for work, he wrote Pamela a note and stole a kiss from her lips. He wanted one more taste of her to help get him through the day.

Pamela woke up to the sound of the wind blowing against the house. It was creepy and made her shiver, but she brought the covers closer to her, trying to fight off sleep. She turned and looked at the clock, her eyes widening at the time. It was nearly noon and she was still in bed. She paused and chewed on her bottom lip, realizing that Bruce was no longer with her. She pouted and she crawled over to his side, pressing her face into his pillow. It still smelled like him and it barely had the warmth of his body anymore, but it helped her deal with the fact that he was gone. She arched an eyebrow when she saw the note on his nightstand and she reached over, picking it up to read it:

 _My rose-_

 _I'm afraid I had to go to work, but I promise I will be back as soon as I can. I hated leaving you this morning, especially after the great night we had last night, but I had no choice. I swear I will make it up to you._

 _Sleep well,_

 _B_

Pamela should have been mad that he left, but she was just the opposite. She held the note to her heart and she smiled. He had never written her a note before and she could tell he was trying to better. She would give him another chance. It was the least he deserved.

She placed the note down and crawled back underneath the sheets, hoping that the hours would go by fast until she could see him again. She wondered how he would make it up to her. More drinks or flowers? Maybe a nice night out in the city? She wouldn't mind either of those things, but she just wanted him to return home early to her. Yawning, she pulled Bruce's pillow to her body, imagining that it was him. This thought helped her fall back asleep.

Bruce returned home a couple of hours later around one in the afternoon. He was genuinely surprised that he could because he thought work would have been more demanding for him today. Instead, he had to meet with some prospective members who wanted to join his mob. This was a difficult aspect of being in charge because these men came to him with almost nothing or they were struggling financially. They were men who didn't have the cleanest of backgrounds nor were they the smartest, but Bruce could tell that they were loyal and dedicated. They had to be anyway since they usually had families. The second after they mentioned that to him, Bruce knew he had to hire them on the spot. Family was something that had to be preserved.

Bruce was surprised, however, that Two Face's grip on his city wasn't becoming tighter. He could tell that Two Face had his sights on what Bruce had, but he would do anything to stop him-he wouldn't let that bastard steal what his father had built from underneath him. He wouldn't let Two Face rob him of Pamela, the only person he wanted to live and breathe for.

Bruce took off his hat, placing it on the hall table. Like usual, Alfred had set out his glass of whiskey and the newspaper for him on the same table, but Bruce skipped the whiskey to look at the newspaper. It was his way of keeping his eye on the city, learning what events made it into the public eye and what didn't. He also had members to tell him of this type of news, but he liked the sense of mundanity the newspaper gave him. It reminded him that the people of his city had normal lives and it reminded him how much he needed to protect them. Bruce reached down to the glass of whiskey and downed it in one swallow before he headed up the stairs to his room. The alcohol burned as it made its way down his throat, taking away from the internal pain he felt if only for a couple of seconds.

Bruce's footfall was quiet against the carpet as he entered his room and his lips pulled into a small smile when he saw Pamela still wrapped up in the sheets, a book in her hand. The book was one he hadn't read in a while or maybe he had never read it in his life, but he was glad she was enjoying it. She looked incredibly comfortable and engrossed in the book all at once. She must've heard him walk inside of the room or felt his presence because she looked up at him, her lips blossoming into a wide smile once she saw him.

Pamela placed the book down and walked over to him, holding the sheets up with one of her hands. Once she was close to him, she let the sheets to the floor, which made Bruce smile some more. He reached forward and he placed his hands on her hips, drawing her closer to him. Pamela smiled softly and she rose to her tip toes to wrap her arms around his neck. Bruce responded by shutting the door behind him before picking her up into his arms. Humming, Pamela looked into his eyes as he lay her down on the bed, her hands on the sides of his neck.

"Mmm . . . welcome home, darling."


	7. Chapter 7

"How's your salad?" Bruce asked as he sat down next to Pamela, his hand finding her own in the candlelight. While Alfred was out collecting her proper clothes, Pamela wore one of his shirts, which was nearly a short dress on her. Bruce wasn't surprised, but it looked much better on her than it would on him any day.

"It's delicious. Thank you so much for making it for me." Pamela looked into his eyes and she idly brushed her thumb over his knuckles. "I forgot just how good of a cook you are."

Her comment made Bruce chuckle because he never thought anyone would say that to him. Whenever he had the time, he would like to cook his favorite dishes or to attempt new recipes. It was a side of him that most people never saw or knew about, but he would gladly share it with her. It was the least she deserved.

"We should make dinner sometime together. It'd be very romantic." Pamela rested her chin on the palm of her free hand, biting down on her bottom lip.

Like his cooking, his attention to romance was something that needed constant work. He knew he could be when he wanted to or when he had the time at least. He was this way with her when they had first started their relationship-sending her flowers whenever she crossed his mind or taking her away from the grimness of the city over the weekends. She didn't deserve to live in Gotham: she deserved to live in a small cottage in the countryside . . . with him. When their relationship wasn't on the rocks, those were all wonderful memories they had created together and he hoped that there would only be more in the future. Bruce was grateful that she had reentered his life, no . . . that she was _willing_ to spend her time with him. He was going to show her, too. His appreciation would rival his romance.

Bruce perked up in his seat as a slow song came onto the radio and he stood up, offering his hand out towards her. He knew she always enjoyed it when they danced together.

"Would you care to have this dance with me?"

Pamela's eyes flashed with surprise, but she nodded and placed her hand in his. Her smile was wide and beautiful. "I would love to, Bruce."

Bruce loved the way she said his name. In times like these, she said his name as if it were the most intimate whisper. He didn't think she knew she was doing it in the first place, but it was still nice all the same. He thought he had memorized it initially, but now he would do his best to. Bruce led her out to the space in front of the fire and he rested his hands on her lower back, keeping her close to him. Because she couldn't reach his neck, she wrapped her arms around his back and placed her cheek against his chest. Pamela smiled to herself at how fast his heart was beating in his chest.

Bruce hadn't heard this song before, but it sounded familiar because it was slow and the singer was talking about love. He looked down at Pamela, a smile appearing on his lips just because she was there with him. She must've felt his gaze because she looked up at him and returned his smile, her cheeks slightly flushed from the combination of the heat from the fire and Bruce's body.

"Whenever you look at me like that, I feel like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world." Pamela confessed, her hands replacing her cheek on his chest.

Her statement was true, especially because no man had ever looked at her like that. Woodrue and Two Face were the only other men she really knew, but they looked at her differently-as if she was their property. And technically, she had been at one point. But Bruce looked at her as if she was a lost art work or maybe the first rose that had bloomed. To her dismay, she had forgotten about this, but she knew she never would again.

"That's because you are the most beautiful woman in the world." Bruce replied without a second of hesitation. He tucked some hair behind her ear, deciding to memorize how soft it felt against her fingertips.

Pamela's reaction was to smile some more, her eyes darkening as well. Bruce noted that he hadn't seen that look in a long time as his hands travel up the curves of her figure. Whenever he looked at her like that, it made him feel like he was the only man in her world, but he didn't know if he could share that with her just yet. He would save that secret for a better time.

Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt and she started to slowly undo them, a coy smile on her plush lips. Bruce rested his hand on her cheek, letting the pad of his thumb brush over her mouth. It still shocked him just how soft her lips were. After Pamela shed the shirt, Bruce took hold of her hand and placed a series of kisses on her palm until he got to her wrist where he felt her pulse. He knew she enjoyed hearing his heartbeat and he enjoyed feeling her pulse. It was proof she was still with him.

Pamela broke his thoughts as she let out a quiet chuckle, her fingers brushing against his own. "I always wonder what's going on in that head of yours . . ."

She rose to her tip toes to wrap her arms around his neck and Bruce responded by picking her up again, her legs dangling by his own. With his hand on the back of her head, Bruce pulled her into a slow kiss, her fingers tangling in her crimson locks. Her lips were warm and she tasted like her favorite wine and he knew he would be thinking about this moment all day tomorrow.

When she wrapped one leg around his waist, he traced his fingertips from her ankle to her upper thigh, which made her softly moan against his mouth. Her moans drove him crazy and they were something he wanted to hear all too much. Her moans were perfect, but everything about her was perfect to him. Bruce's heart rate started to accelerate and he could start to feel himself become more aroused.

He moved and sat down on the couch in front of the fire with her straddling his lap. The fire behind her made Pamela's hair glow as if it were a halo of some sort. It was funny to think how awkward it had been for them when they had sat here a couple of days ago. Now, it was like no time had passed and they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Bruce pulled his mouth away from her own to place a trail of kisses down her neck. His lips had rediscovered the sensitive places on her body and it was apparent that those were some things he hadn't forgotten about. He undid her shirt in a matter of seconds and he pushed it off her shoulders, falling to a heap on the floor. Pamela took care of her panties and they soon joined the shirt. Her hand went to the back of his head and her fingers snaked into his hair when his lips followed the path of her collarbones. He pulled back to get a good look at her, his hands retreating to her waist.

"God, Pamela . . ." Bruce tapered off. He didn't know if he could say anything else because he was completely enthralled with how she looked.

Her hair was wild, which made him want to run his fingers through it even more. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were red like they usually were after they would kiss that much. She sat completely naked in front of him, completely vulnerable in front of him. He could spend hours tracing the smooth curves and grooves of her body, learning it better than his own. To Bruce, she was naturally beautiful and he wanted to tell her this, but he couldn't because his brain wasn't functioning. That's what she did to him.

Instead of replying with words to his comment, Pamela offered him a coy smile as her hands went to his pants. She climbed out of his lap to help him out of them, only returning to his lap when he was naked like herself. Pamela took the time to worship his form with her eyes and her touch. Her hands slowly trailed down his chest and to his lower abdomen, his muscles hard and defined underneath her hands. His whole body was like that-solid and sturdy. He somehow found the time to keep in shape with his busy schedule. He probably worked out in the early hours of the morning when Pamela was still fast asleep.

Bruce suddenly pulled her close to him, her soft breasts pressed against his chest. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she gave him another hungry kiss as she adjusted her position slightly to lower herself onto his length. Bruce took in a gasp when he felt her warmth around him and he held onto her hips tightly to help her. Pamela brushed her nose against his and she rested her forehead on his as she started to rock her hips back and forth.

One of Bruce's arms slid around her waist, his other hand snaking up to her breast to give it a gentle squeeze. His action made Pamela moan and pick up the pace of her hips. He lay back against the cushions of the couch to watch her body move for him, his hands finding their way around her body. Her skin was so soft and creamy that he didn't think he could ever let her go. His hands took hold of her breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing over her nipples. Pamela hummed and dipped her head to kiss him again. One of Bruce's hands made its way up, wrapping around her throat. Pamela didn't mind him trying new things and his hand felt like it was supposed to be there.

Giving him a sultry wink, her hand wrapped around his wrist to let him know she approved. When they were first together, Pamela would have never allowed this, but after spending time with Two Face, Bruce's action was mild.

She would never get used to making love to Bruce, though. He made her feel stunning just by the way he touched her during and held her afterwards. She was sure she was addictive to him, but she loved it. To her surprise, Bruce suddenly gripped her hips and she looked down at him, her own chest rising and falling unevenly. She slowed down to feel him throbbing inside of her, a smirk appearing on her lips.

" _Oh_." She commented with understanding and she pulled away from him, her hand wrapping around his length. She placed kisses down his neck as she slowly stroked him. Pamela's smirk only widened as she saw the muscles in his body tense before he climaxed in front of her. She smiled and kissed him again, her hand going to his chest.

"That felt wonderful. Thank you." Bruce said and looked at her, pushing some hair behind her ear.

Pamela chuckled and she shook her head. "You don't have to thank me. I enjoyed it just as much as you do."

"Good, I'm glad." Bruce stood up to pull his pants back on before he bent over to scoop Pamela up in his arms.

She laughed and she wrapped her arm around his neck as he headed up the stairs, his bare feet quiet against the hard floor. Pamela's eyes found his own, her fingers idly combing through his hair.

"Let's get you into a warm bath and then to bed, okay? It's late." Bruce looked into her eyes as he paused outside of the bathroom, his own cheeks a little red.

Pamela nodded her head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Only as long as you join me in both the bath and the bed."


	8. Chapter 8

Pamela always enjoyed going to the market, especially the smaller ones in the city. She hadn't been to one in a while, but she wanted to get some fresh vegetables for the dinner they were going to make tonight. The smaller markets were quaint and usually not as busy as the bigger ones in the city. Bruce also suggested that she go to a smaller one to avoid recognition. With Alfred's help, Ivy went unnoticed during her outing because she wore sunglasses and a headscarf. Her crimson hair was usually what gave her away initially. She concluded that her new dress helped as well.

Alfred drove her to a part of the city that was quieter. Holding a basket in the crook of her elbow, she browsed through the fruit. She picked up an orange and smelled it, her lips pulling into a soft smile. She forgot how peaceful this was-to take the time to pick out fresh fruit. She placed a couple of oranges into her basket before she traveled over to the vegetables.

She picked up some heads of lettuce for some salad, along with some cucumbers, carrots, and zucchini. She was sure that Bruce would want a meat dish, but she was okay with salad. She would let him make the meat dish because that wasn't her forte. Pamela turned her head to the side and her face brightened when she saw a flower stand. She approached it and chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about what kind of flowers she would want. She stopped once she saw the roses and she picked up a bouquet. If there was anything the Wayne Manor needed, it was life . . . flowers. Now that she thought about it, maybe Pamela would grow a garden and some rose bushes.

Pamela turned to pay, but she froze in her tracks. She saw a familiar figure leaning against the alley way, flipping a coin mindlessly. Two Face looked up at her from beneath the brim of his hat and he gave her a malicious smile. He flipped the coin to the person who owned the market and she caught it, her eyes wide. It was probable that Two Face was paying for Pamela's groceries and the silence of the owner. Two Face walked towards her, looping an arm through hers. He put his mouth to her ear, causing her to grimace. For some reason, he always smelled like sulfur. She sometimes thought about how she dealt with it at first, but he didn't smell like that when they met. He didn't act anything like he did now when they were initially together.

"If you cry out or try to run away, I _will_ kill you." Two Face pulled away and tauntingly pulled her headscarf from her hair, letting it disappear with a gust of wind.

Pamela gasped and she watched it flutter away down the sidewalk. Her heart beat fast in her chest with fear, her mind running a million miles a minute. How did he find her here? How did he even know she was going to be here? After she thought about it, those were all stupid questions. Two Face had spies crawling around this city like rats in the sewers. They probably watched Bruce Wayne closely.

Two Face nodded to a couple casually as they turned out of the alley way and down the sidewalk. He yanked her tight to his side and even though Pamela wanted to, she refrained from pulling away. She didn't want to get hurt by him. She refused.

"You are the most foolish _slut_ I've ever met. You really think you can run back to Bruce Wayne like that? Especially after I gave you your career?" Two Face pulled away as he shook his head, looking deeply into her eyes.

 _Just his stare could make something die_ , Pamela thought with a grimace on her lips. Two Face plucked a rose from her basket, sniffing the petals. She flinched when he started to violently pluck the petals from the stem and she watched them fall to the ground. To her horror, they almost looked like blood drops.

"I'm going to let this go, but only on one condition." Two Face dropped the stem and grabbed her by the arm, slamming her against a nearby wall.

Pamela gasped and the fear she felt only deepened in her heart. He was going to kill her and drop her lifeless body on Bruce's doorstep as revenge. He was right-she was foolish, thinking that she could go back to Bruce and actually be safe from Two Face. She never would be safe unless he was dead.

"You're going to be my little spy." Two Face chuckled and his hand found its way around her throat, tightening around it somewhat to scare her. His eyes darkened a little and Pamela flinched, both of her hands going to his wrist to try and make him let go. Two Face smirked and pressed her harder against the wall. His grip on her throat lessened, but he kept it there as a reminder.

"You're going to tell me everything he's doing. You're going to bring him any information that you might think is vital. If you tell him you're doing this for me . . . well, I'll make sure your pretty, dead body is covered in roses." Two Face chuckled darkly and ran his hands down her body hungrily. He squeezed her hips, making Pamela flinch, but she didn't try to pull away. He would want that.

"Is that all you would like from me?" Pamela asked, her tone sharp with contained anger. She had to conjure up the strength to meet his eyes.

"Am I getting attitude from you?" Two Face grimaced and slapped her across her cheek before he roughly took a hold of her jaw. "You don't talk to me like that. You're filth compared to me."

His words hurt worse than his slap. Tears formed in her eyes because a part of his statement was true-the things she had done for him would make Bruce ashamed and make him think of her differently. Completely different. Pamela felt bile rising to her throat as she thought about it, but she took some deep breaths, calming herself down and forcing the tears away. The past was in the past and she was a new person now. She did what she had to in order to survive and she was doing the same thing now.

"I'm sorry." Pamela's apology was pathetic, but she was surprised it came out of her mouth in the first place.

"Oh," Two Face breathed. "You're going to be if you fuck this up for me, so I would suggest you don't." He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek, leaving one of his coins in her basket.

He pulled away and tipped his hat at her before he walked down the sidewalk, whistling a jazzy tune as if nothing had happened.

Pamela felt like collapsing onto the ground, but she leaned against the wall instead, her chest rising and falling unevenly. How could she even do what he wanted? She could never spy on Bruce like that. She didn't want to, anyway. She was happy with Bruce and would never want to return to . . . to that creep. He built up her career and destroyed it just as easily. If there was anything Gotham didn't need, it was his presence.

Pamela looked around nervously, wondering if any of his spies were there. When she saw that the coast was clear, she made her way back to the market. She tried to collect herself as much as she could in front of Alfred. She didn't want him to be alarmed because he would tell Bruce. If someone was going to tell him, it would be her. This was her problem and she would solve it her own way.

When Pamela returned, she saw Alfred sitting on a small bench against the brick wall, reading the paper and smoking a pipe. He looked up at her and offered her a friendly smile, folding up his paper.

"Are you ready to leave, Miss Isley?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you, Alfred."

Nodding, Alfred got to his feet and he led her back to the car, which was parked a couple of blocks away. Pamela stayed quiet the entire time, her heels clicking against the sidewalk to replace her words. She thanked him after he opened the car door for her and she climbed inside, placing the basket next to her.

She remained silent throughout the car ride, watching as children played on the streets and wives shopped and gossiped together. No wonder Bruce wanted to desperately preserve his city. It was charming in its own ways, along with the people who resided there. She would do anything to help him with his goal, even if that meant putting her own life at risk.

"A lot on your mind, Miss Isley?" Alfred piped up and looked at her through the reflection of the mirror.

Ivy shook her head and smiled shyly, meeting his gaze.

"No, Alfred, but thank you."

If there was anything Pamela was good at aside from singing, it was lying.


	9. Chapter 9

Pamela always enjoyed going to the market, especially the smaller ones in the city. She hadn't been to one in a while, but she wanted to get some fresh vegetables for the dinner they were going to make tonight. The smaller markets were quaint and usually not as busy as the bigger ones in the city. Bruce also suggested that she go to a smaller one to avoid recognition. With Alfred's help, Ivy went unnoticed during her outing because she wore sunglasses and a headscarf. Her crimson hair was usually what gave her away initially. She concluded that her new dress helped as well.

Alfred drove her to a part of the city that was quieter. Holding a basket in the crook of her elbow, she browsed through the fruit. She picked up an orange and smelled it, her lips pulling into a soft smile. She forgot how peaceful this was-to take the time to pick out fresh fruit. She placed a couple of oranges into her basket before she traveled over to the vegetables.

She picked up some heads of lettuce for some salad, along with some cucumbers, carrots, and zucchini. She was sure that Bruce would want a meat dish, but she was okay with salad. She would let him make the meat dish because that wasn't her forte. Pamela turned her head to the side and her face brightened when she saw a flower stand. She approached it and chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about what kind of flowers she would want. She stopped once she saw the roses and she picked up a bouquet. If there was anything the Wayne Manor needed, it was life . . . flowers. Now that she thought about it, maybe Pamela would grow a garden and some rose bushes.

Pamela turned to pay, but she froze in her tracks. She saw a familiar figure leaning against the alley way, flipping a coin mindlessly. Two Face looked up at her from beneath the brim of his hat and he gave her a malicious smile. He flipped the coin to the person who owned the market and she caught it, her eyes wide. It was probable that Two Face was paying for Pamela's groceries and the silence of the owner. Two Face walked towards her, looping an arm through hers. He put his mouth to her ear, causing her to grimace. For some reason, he always smelled like sulfur. She sometimes thought about how she dealt with it at first, but he didn't smell like that when they met. He didn't act anything like he did now when they were initially together.

"If you cry out or try to run away, I _will_ kill you." Two Face pulled away and tauntingly pulled her headscarf from her hair, letting it disappear with a gust of wind.

Pamela gasped and she watched it flutter away down the sidewalk. Her heart beat fast in her chest with fear, her mind running a million miles a minute. How did he find her here? How did he even know she was going to be here? After she thought about it, those were all stupid questions. Two Face had spies crawling around this city like rats in the sewers. They probably watched Bruce Wayne closely.

Two Face nodded to a couple casually as they turned out of the alley way and down the sidewalk. He yanked her tight to his side and even though Pamela wanted to, she refrained from pulling away. She didn't want to get hurt by him. She refused.

"You are the most foolish _slut_ I've ever met. You really think you can run back to Bruce Wayne like that? Especially after I gave you your career?" Two Face pulled away as he shook his head, looking deeply into her eyes.

 _Just his stare could make something die_ , Pamela thought with a grimace on her lips. Two Face plucked a rose from her basket, sniffing the petals. She flinched when he started to violently pluck the petals from the stem and she watched them fall to the ground. To her horror, they almost looked like blood drops.

"I'm going to let this go, but only on one condition." Two Face dropped the stem and grabbed her by the arm, slamming her against a nearby wall.

Pamela gasped and the fear she felt only deepened in her heart. He was going to kill her and drop her lifeless body on Bruce's doorstep as revenge. He was right-she was foolish, thinking that she could go back to Bruce and actually be safe from Two Face. She never would be safe unless he was dead.

"You're going to be my little spy." Two Face chuckled and his hand found its way around her throat, tightening around it somewhat to scare her. His eyes darkened a little and Pamela flinched, both of her hands going to his wrist to try and make him let go. Two Face smirked and pressed her harder against the wall. His grip on her throat lessened, but he kept it there as a reminder.

"You're going to tell me everything he's doing. You're going to bring him any information that you might think is vital. If you tell him you're doing this for me . . . well, I'll make sure your pretty, dead body is covered in roses." Two Face chuckled darkly and ran his hands down her body hungrily. He squeezed her hips, making Pamela flinch, but she didn't try to pull away. He would want that.

"Is that all you would like from me?" Pamela asked, her tone sharp with contained anger. She had to conjure up the strength to meet his eyes.

"Am I getting attitude from you?" Two Face grimaced and slapped her across her cheek before he roughly took a hold of her jaw. "You don't talk to me like that. You're filth compared to me."

His words hurt worse than his slap. Tears formed in her eyes because a part of his statement was true-the things she had done for him would make Bruce ashamed and make him think of her differently. Completely different. Pamela felt bile rising to her throat as she thought about it, but she took some deep breaths, calming herself down and forcing the tears away. The past was in the past and she was a new person now. She did what she had to in order to survive and she was doing the same thing now.

"I'm sorry." Pamela's apology was pathetic, but she was surprised it came out of her mouth in the first place.

"Oh," Two Face breathed. "You're going to be if you fuck this up for me, so I would suggest you don't." He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek, leaving one of his coins in her basket.

He pulled away and tipped his hat at her before he walked down the sidewalk, whistling a jazzy tune as if nothing had happened.

Pamela felt like collapsing onto the ground, but she leaned against the wall instead, her chest rising and falling unevenly. How could she even do what he wanted? She could never spy on Bruce like that. She didn't want to, anyway. She was happy with Bruce and would never want to return to . . . to that creep. He built up her career and destroyed it just as easily. If there was anything Gotham didn't need, it was his presence.

Pamela looked around nervously, wondering if any of his spies were there. When she saw that the coast was clear, she made her way back to the market. She tried to collect herself as much as she could in front of Alfred. She didn't want him to be alarmed because he would tell Bruce. If someone was going to tell him, it would be her. This was her problem and she would solve it her own way.

When Pamela returned, she saw Alfred sitting on a small bench against the brick wall, reading the paper and smoking a pipe. He looked up at her and offered her a friendly smile, folding up his paper.

"Are you ready to leave, Miss Isley?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you, Alfred."

Nodding, Alfred got to his feet and he led her back to the car, which was parked a couple of blocks away. Pamela stayed quiet the entire time, her heels clicking against the sidewalk to replace her words. She thanked him after he opened the car door for her and she climbed inside, placing the basket next to her.

She remained silent throughout the car ride, watching as children played on the streets and wives shopped and gossiped together. No wonder Bruce wanted to desperately preserve his city. It was charming in its own ways, along with the people who resided there. She would do anything to help him with his goal, even if that meant putting her own life at risk.

"A lot on your mind, Miss Isley?" Alfred piped up and looked at her through the reflection of the mirror.

Ivy shook her head and smiled shyly, meeting his gaze.

"No, Alfred, but thank you."

If there was anything Pamela was good at aside from singing, it was lying.


	10. Chapter 10

"Bruce? Where am I . . . where are we going?" Pamela asked as she stumbled over her own two feet. She could tell she was outside because her heels were sinking into the grass. Bruce had the palms of his hands covering her eyes, a make shift blindfold. She had no idea where she was, but since he was making it a surprise, she knew it was going to be good.

"Patience is a virtue, Pamela. Besides, don't you trust me? I wouldn't let you fall or stumble."

His reassurance made her feel better, but it also made her heart skip a beat. Yes, she reminded herself, he was there for her. He would be there to catch her if she fell, which was unlike any other man she had been with.

Bruce suddenly stopped walking, inaudibly announcing their arrival to the secret spot. Pamela heard him let out a shaky sigh, his skin warm against his cheekbones. He sounded . . . nervous? Unless she was mistaking it for excitement.

"Okay. I hope you like it."

Bruce's hands fell away and Pamela realized she was standing in front of the gazebo. She took in a small gasp because it was beautifully decorated: there was a table for two in the middle that was clearly set up for dinner. The table was covered in a lace cloth with a bouquet of roses in the middle and two small candles on either side of the flowers. The fine china and silverware rested on top of the cloth, the silver softly glimmering underneath the candlelight. There were also more candles around the inside of the gazebo, giving them more light for their dinner. For Pamela, it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her.

"Like it?" Pamela responded, turning around to face him. "I love it. It's wonderful, thank you so much." She rested her hands on his chest and rose to her tip toes to kiss him.

Bruce's arms found their way around her waist as he returned the kiss, pressing her close to him. Now she understood why he had dressed up and he strongly suggested that she wear her dress.

Pamela broke the kiss to go into the gazebo and he took hold of her hand, helping her inside. Bruce knew this was one of her most favorite places in the world and she never imagined it could look this gorgeous, especially at night. She traveled around the gazebo, taking everything in. She wanted to remember every single detail of tonight and she knew she wouldn't.

When she decided to finally sit down, Bruce pulled out the chair for her and helped her scoot the chair in. The second Bruce sat down, Alfred came out with a bottle of wine and he quickly poured each of them a glass before leaving the bottle on the table.

Pamela picked up the glass and took a couple of sips, relishing the taste. She saw Bruce fix his collar and give her a small smile. She paused-this wasn't like him. He had always felt comfortable and was relaxed in her presence. In fact, she was the only one who could relax him. Before she could ask if he was okay, Alfred appeared again with their dinner. Alfred had prepared a steak for him and a salad for Pamela. Now that she was picking up on Bruce's emotions, she didn't know if she could eat. She was starting to absorb his anxiousness.

Placing his napkin on his lap, Bruce then picked up his utensils and cut into his steak. _Maybe he isn't as nervous as you think?_ She took a couple of more sips of wine before she decided to eat her salad.

"So, how was your day?" Bruce interjected. "I'm sorry that I've been gone for most of the day, but you know . . . work."

"You don't have to apologize, Bruce. I completely understand. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow." Pamela reached across the table and brushed her fingertips over his knuckles to try and comfort him.

Bruce tried to offer her an appreciative smile, but he just looked sad. "Yes, I know. Don't remind me."

"Everything will be fine. He doesn't have a clue."

"I know." Bruce said, his eyes suddenly turning as dark as the night sky.

Pamela understood all too well that his anger and frustration wasn't directed at her. When it came to situations like these, he internalized the guilt he felt and sometimes it threatened to escape like a rabid dog from a cage. She was sure it would be freed tomorrow when they killed Two Face. Bruce would make a spectacle of it, but she wouldn't hold him back.

He averted his gaze and her attention went back to her salad. She went to wipe her mouth with her napkin, but then she noticed his leg was bouncing. Could he really be that worried about tomorrow? If he already had this much energy, he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

"Darling, everything will be fine. I promise. Our plan does have any holes and your men will follow it to a tee. It's nerve wracking, I know, but we can do it. We're a good team . . . all of us are." Pamela took hold of his hand again, giving it a small squeeze.

Her little speech caught Bruce's attention and he ended up cracking a smile, letting out a chuckle in response. He released her hand.

"You think the job is what's making me nervous?" Bruce shook his head as he got up and walked over to her. He took hold of her hand again, but he got down on one knee.

His movement made Pamela's heart beat fast in her chest. She rested her other hand on top of his, her head tilting to the side.

"Bruce, what are you doing?"

Bruce didn't immediately respond, deciding to smile at her and look into her eyes instead.

"Pamela, I know we've had a rocky relationship, but I swear no one makes me feel as happy as you do and no one else ever will. Before we go into this next chapter of our lives, I want everyone to know that you're mine. That you're a Wayne." He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a black velvet box.

Her eyes widened, her heart beating even faster in her chest. She was surprised, but she was mostly excited. She never thought Bruce would want to marry her, but she loved the idea of him behind her husband. Now that she thought about it, that was the only thing she ever wanted. To be with him forever. He made her happy-he completed her in ways she never expected anyone would. He protected her and loved her as much as she loved him. He was home and she had been searching for that ever since she could remember.

Bruce went to open the box, but she placed her hand on top of it to stop him from opening it. He gave her a questioning look, but she could only smile like he had done earlier.

"Yes, Bruce. I will marry you."

"Then will you let me put the ring on your finger?"

"Maybe later." Pamela countered, her arms slipping around his neck. "As for right now, I want you to kiss me and never stop."

"I can do that." Bruce wrapped his own arms around her waist and lifted her up, which caused her to let out a laugh. Her dress rode up, but he didn't mind. He held her up by keeping his hands underneath her thighs.

He leaned in and captured her lips with his. He hasn't been this happy and excited to live his life in a long time. Once they were done with Two Face, they would be married as soon as possible.

Pamela could taste the wine on his lips as she kissed him back. Although she was sure the ring was beautiful, his kiss was much better and what she preferred. She wondered if there was any way Bruce could have one of his men assassinate Two Face, so they wouldn't have to. She wanted to be Pamela Wayne . . . life was too short to wait for the church bells.

With his free hand, Bruce grabbed the box from the table and stuffed it into the pocket of his pants. Pamela looked at him questioningly as his hand returned to her thigh.

"By the end of the night, the only thing I want you to be wearing is the ring."

Bruce's comment made her break into laughter, but it was short lived because he pulled her into another kiss. While he stepped out of the gazebo, there was a large crack of thunder and a couple of seconds, it started to rain.

Pamela looked up at the sky and she held one arm out, the rain staining her dress, but she didn't care. Bruce leaned in and kissed down her jaw and neck.

"Come on. We better get you out of those wet clothes."

Pamela chuckled and she arched an eyebrow. "Oh? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Bruce threw her over her shoulder and playfully spanked her, making her squeak in surprise and laugh.


	11. Chapter 11

Amidst her happiness of their engagement, Pamela had almost forgotten that she was to meet Two Face that night. She had to report to him and tell the gangster what Bruce was doing, even though everything she had told him was fake. Around eleven at night, she reluctantly climbed out of bed, but not without giving Bruce one more glance. She always hated leaving him, just like she knew he hated doing the same. She brushed some hair off his forehead, making her eyes flicker to the diamond of the ring. It was beautiful and she was excited to be his, but it still didn't feel real yet. After putting some clothes on and taking the ring off for safety reasons, she was out the door by eleven thirty.

Pamela nervously paced back and forth in front of a back door in an alleyway. If she was correct, the door would lead to a room in the small bar where Two Face and his goons met every week. Like the club she performed in, this location was hidden away or at least in the part of the city that didn't treat women like her kindly. She was unaware if this was the location they were operating from, but if it was, that would give Bruce a good lead on them. For months now, Bruce and his men had been looking for their point of operation to try and not go with their initial plan. Bruce had his best men interrogate Two Face's own men, but none of them said a word. Bruce's men were incredibly rough with them, (she even witnessed some of the sessions), but Pamela knew that Two Face was rougher. If their plan happened to backfire-and god she hoped it wouldn't-this would be the first place Bruce would plan to strike. Right into the heart.

She turned her head just in time to see a bystander pass her, causing her body to react with a flinch. She detested being in this part of the city, especially without Alfred or Bruce with her. She wanted Bruce to come with her tonight or at least one of his men, but he begrudgingly refused. She understood his reasoning, of course. She would have to go alone because so far, Two Face didn't suspect a thing. In fact, he seemed extremely content every time she had to check in with him. She assumed it was most likely the alcohol or perhaps the false delusion that he was going to take the city from Bruce's hands. Pamela wanted to remind him that sometimes delusion can be stronger than any drug or alcohol.

Nevertheless, she was relieved when she saw him like this since no one would get hurt, including herself. If she returned to Bruce with a black eye or a bloody nose . . . the whole plan would be instantaneously forgotten. Pamela appreciated his need to protect her to an extent, but they had to be sneaky if they wanted to be successful.

Besides, Two Face was hers to kill.

The back door violently swung open, revealing two of Two Face's guards. The sound made Pamela gasp and press a hand to her beating heart. The guards had blank looks on their faces, their suits being the most appealing part of them. She looked them up and down quickly before she cleared her throat, an easy-going smile appearing on her lips. She was scared out of her mind, but after a couple of weeks, she learned to control that sensation of immediately wanting to run. Before the attack, she would have to have everything in place, so killing him would be easy.

"Hello, boys. Nice to see you again." Pamela nodded her head to each of them as she stepped inside. "It's a lovely night out." She was obviously being sarcastic because it had rained heavily earlier that night.

One of them grunted in response, which was new. They usually ignored her as they made their long way down to the room. The walk was worse than the actual meeting because she didn't know what kind of mood Two Face would be in. For the most part, it had been the jovial one, but tonight felt different. Maybe she was being paranoid.

The guards led her to the room in the back and they forced her into a chair next to Two Face. She grimaced, but tried to hide it by quietly thanking them. She placed the suitcase in her lap, containing false plans and documents. To make sure he didn't suspect anything, Bruce did many of the things on the list. When asked about the actions that weren't done during the next week, Pamela said he must've changed his mind. That earned her a harsh stare, but nothing else to her relief.

Smoke choked the air in the room, making Pamela want to cough. The head and his mob were talking and laughing around a large, circular table as they played poker. They were all having fun, but she knew it was all fake. She was sure some of his followers were loyal, but she was also sure that most of them were terrified. She glanced around the room, seeing how some men clutched at their cards or didn't touch any of their drinks. Doing a quick comparison in her head, Two Face ruled with fear whereas Bruce reigned with compassion. It's too bad Two Face would never learn this.

Pamela kept her eyes low until Two Face placed his cards down on the table, turning his head to look at her. Pamela wanted to wither underneath his gaze, but instead, she held out the suitcase to him.

"Here is the information for this week. Some of it is the same, but there is good news." She opened it and reached inside, plucking a paper from the pile.

Two Face took a couple of seconds to read it, his lips eventually pulling into a wide grin.

"Well, this is wonderful news." He took the paper from her to look at it some more as if he couldn't believe what he was reading. He cleared his throat and the room soon silenced. "Listen here: Bruce has lost the club! Do you know how big this is? If we can get it, we'd already have a good chunk of the town! It won't take much longer then and Bruce will be out of our way."

Pamela smiled, desperately trying to stifle a laugh. This information obviously wasn't true, but they wanted him to believe it, so he would walk right into the trap. Their plan was unraveling all too well, which made her uneasy for some reason.

"My rose, you have done wonderful." Two Face announced, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek.

Pamela wanted to run away, but she forced herself to stay there and smile some more.

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad you're happy with the news."

"Mhm. And when we take over, you'll be singing there every night. How does that sound? I'll make so much money off my songbird." Two Face said with a certain gleam in his eyes.

"It sounds amazing, sir. Thank you." She nodded her head and removed the suitcase from the table, placing it by his feet.

Two Face nodded and pat her cheek before he went back to the game. She tried not to flinch, especially as memories of him slapping her hard flashed through her head. Because of the good news, he bet a lot more money than he normally would, making his men cheer in encouragement. They were all going to be in a happy mood tonight.

Pamela let out a silent sigh as she leaned back in her chair. She was absolutely relieved he didn't suspect anything. It would make tomorrow go that much smoother. Clearing her throat, she took hold of the empty suitcase and stood up. As if on cue, Two Face's head snapped towards her and he arched an angry eyebrow.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

His tone made Pamela's blood run cold. What had happened to his happy attitude? She gripped the suitcase tightly, making her knuckles turn white. Should she have asked for permission to leave? She usually didn't have to since he let her go after a while.

"I . . . I need to go back to my hotel. It's late." Pamela explained. She was desperately trying to make up an excuse, but the only one she could come up with was that she wanted to climb back into bed with Bruce's arms around her.

"So? Being out this late never bothered you before," Two Face responded with a smirk. "Especially when I took you over and over again."

His comment made all of his thugs laugh and Pamela's cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment. It was true, but at that point in her life, she enjoyed it. Wanted it even. Now the thought made her want to throw up right on the table.

Pamela shook her head, conjuring up an easy smile. "No, no. I just meant I need my beauty rest if I'm going to perform at _your_ club tomorrow." She sealed her excuse with a reassuring nod as she rested her hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Two Face's smirk deepened, signaling that he believed what he told her. She felt as though she would turn into a puddle from the relief, but she had to hold her composure if she wanted to make it out here alive.

"Thank you." She placed a kiss to the top of his head before she slowly made her way to the door. She waited for more questions from him, but she left when there wasn't anything aside from the cheers of the game.

Pamela forced herself to not run away from the building. She wanted to go home to Bruce immediately, but she decided to go into a local hotel for a while. She could tell she was being watched by one of Two Face's thugs, so she wanted to make sure he bought her story. She sat at the bar and bought herself a glass of wine, but instead of drinking it, she stared at the crimson liquid.

In about twenty-four hours, she would see Two Face's blood somehow. She didn't know if it would be on her hands, on the walls, or on Bruce's hands, but it would be there. He was her problem and she would handle it. Finally deciding she needed the alcohol, she drank the entire glass at once, handing to back to the bar tender. He gave her a weird look, but he didn't question it. She was sure he had seen worse, anyway. When she stood up, her eyes blurred, but she didn't care.

Pamela made her way back to Bruce's manor slowly, enjoying the way the cool wind bit at her cheeks. It kept her cool and awake. She was suddenly so tired of everything-tired of lying to Two Face and doing his bidding. Tired of pretending to hate Bruce. Tired of waiting to be his wife. She couldn't wait until Two Face was dead.

She went in through the back, trying to not make that much noise. She headed up the stairs, but stopped once she saw Bruce standing at the top, smoking a cigar. He saved those for times when he was really stressed. There weren't any lights on, so she couldn't see his face. Instead, she saw the smoke surrounding him.

"Where have you been, Pamela?"

She gripped the banister. "I forgot I had a meeting with Two Face tonight, but thankfully it was the last one. I should've told you, but you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"I appreciate it, but your disappearance scared me. Just leave me a note or something, okay?"  
"All right, I'm sorry." Pamela said, taking some steps towards him. "How can I make it up to you?"

Since she was close enough to him, she could see a smile tugging on his lips.

"I think you know how. Get into the bedroom and get those clothes off."


End file.
